


Scraps: unfinished Infinite fics

by Lirazel



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6243184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirazel/pseuds/Lirazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have a lot of unfinished Infinite fic sitting on my harddrive and I just need to admit to myself that I'm never going to finish them, so I'm posting them. </p><p>(Every single one of these is completely unfinished so please don't read them if the lack of resolution is going to upset you.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the Woogyu Angst one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this one probably in 2012 or at least 2013. I considered titling it Angst: The Fic, so let that be a warning to you.
> 
>  
> 
> Summary: _Sunggyu finds it ironic: he’d never wanted to be an idol, and he still is one; Woohyun had always wanted to be one and now he isn’t. The universe has a bitch of a sense of humor._

The doctor had warned him. “Don’t flinch,” he’d said. “And don’t stare. But don’t look away, either.”

Sunggyu had tried to hide his irritation with the instructions ( _Don’t walk but don’t stand still. Don’t hold your breath but don’t exhale. Don’t live but don’t die_ ), wanting very much to shove the man aside and burst through the door he was standing in front of. But he’d kept his temper in check, listening carefully to the instructions, fingers playing with the hems of his sleeves, and he’d bowed very low when the doctor was finished talking—after all, this was the man who’d saved Woohyun’s life. 

 

The damage is both much worse and not nearly as bad as Sunggyu has been imagining (ever since the manager—which one? He can’t remember, isn’t that strange? He can see eyes serious and a little frightened in front of him, but he has no idea whose eyes they are—told him that there’d been an accident and it was serious). It’s definitely going to be the first thing people notice about him, but, strangely, it doesn’t detract from his attractiveness.

 

Which is a fucking stupid thing to think, when Woohyun looks like he’s been socked in both eyes, when there are purple and yellow smudges all over his skin, when the stitched-up lacerations still look angry and red across his face. But the bone structure is still there, his nose as pointy as ever and when his black eyes heal his winged eye smile will come back and his lips are still full and, yeah, there’s gonna be scars, lots of them, but he’s still _Woohyun_. Sunggyu notices all this in a moment, taking in the way all Woohyun’s hair has been shaved away--his head looks weirdly lumpy, and some of the stitches climb from his cheeks up past his temples and forehead to his crown. He looks smaller than usual, too, skinnier and more haggard, his skin pallid against the snowy sheets and pillows, and Sunggyu has seen him after months of insufficient sleep and forgotten meals and stress more intense than most people could imagine, but he’s never seen him like _this_. Sunggyu’s fingers tug uselessly at his sleeves, and he repeats the doctor’s words to himself like a mantra: _Don’t flinch and don’t stare. But don’t look away either._ He understands now.

 

“You should have brought a photographer with you.” Woohyun’s voice is so raspy Sunggyu would barely recognize it if it weren’t for the edge of snideness he knows far too well, even if it’s more brittle than it’s ever been before. “Pictures will last longer.”

It’s an old line, barely even clever, and Sunggyu isn’t sure whether the bite of it is comforting or bitter. 

“And think of all the money you could make if you sell them. I could make a photographer’s career. Every newspaper in Korea would have me on the front page.”

It makes Sunggyu sick to even think about newspapers making money off of this, though he knows they already are even without pictures. But he shoves the thought away, and swallows hard, racking his mind for something to say, for some way to verbalize the relief he’s felt since it became clear that Woohyun would indeed survive. When they hadn’t been sure…

Well, anyway, he needs to let Woohyun know how grateful he is that he’s sitting up and talking. There will be scars, yes, where those stitches are. It’ll be weeks, too, before he can walk and then still more before he can leave the hospital. But Woohyun is _alive_ , and that’s what matters. Or at least he had thought so until he walked through that door and saw Woohyun’s empty eyes.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” is what comes out of his mouth, and he regrets it immediately, mentally cursing himself. He’s never been good with words, always awkward with them unless he’s singing them. But even for him, that’s a pretty big blunder.

“Okay?” Woohyun doesn’t laugh, but the dark humor is so thick in his voice that Sunggyu’s afraid he might choke on it. “My legs were practically shattered and I look shit and I’ve had a catheter shoved up my dick for days. I’m glad to know your definition of ‘okay’ is idol industry appropriate.”

That stings, but Sunggyu knows he deserves it. He presses his eyes closed for a moment, breathing deep. “I mean that you’re--” There just aren’t words for this. There _aren’t_. “We thought you were going to _die_ , Woohyun,” he says hopelessly, spreading his empty hands.

“I should have,” is what Woohyun says, and then he turns over on his side so that his back is facing Sunggyu and no matter what Sunggyu says, he won’t acknowledge that he’s even there. 

(That’s the last thing Woohyun will say to him for weeks. But Sunggyu can’t know that now. So he leaves, shoulders slumping, relief and pain churning in his stomach.)

 

 

 

When he gets home, Dongwoo is sobbing into Myungsoo’s shoulder again, while tears silently trickle down Myungsoo’s cheeks. It’s a pale-faced Sungyeol who approaches him, all signs of his carelessness banished from his face. For the first time Sunggyu looks at him and sees a man instead of a boy. Maybe the man has been there awhile, but Sunggyu’s never noticed him before.

“How is he?” Sungyeol’s voice cracks when he asks, and though his voice cracks a lot, this time it sounds different. Sunggyu thinks of all the pranks Sungyeol and Woohyun pulled together, all the times he got a headache listening to them romp around, all the times Sungyeol escaped a chewing-out only because Woohyun had been his partner-in-crime. Sunggyu can’t imagine Infinite without Woohyun, but he imagines Sungyeol without him, every deserved punishment or lecture falling on his head because Woohyun’s steely commitment to the group wasn’t there to deflect. Sunggyu had never been able to get angry at Woohyun when he acted like a child because he knew that Woohyun deserved those breaks from maturity after all he poured into Infinite and into being an idol. And he couldn’t very well punish Sungyeol and not punish Woohyun; that would be playing favorites, and he knows he already does too much of that. So Sungyeol escaped consequences time and time again. If he hadn’t had Woohyun by his side, he’d have had to bear the brunt of all of them. He might not even still be here.

Somehow, he thinks Sungyeol knows that even better than Sunggyu does himself. Sungyeol would probably know what to say, too--know how to answer now, know what he should have said to Woohyun earlier. Sungyeol is like that.

“He’s sitting up and talking,” Sunggyu says finally, noticing that Howon and Sungjong are listening from the couch. “There’s no danger now, he just has to have time to heal.” That’s what the doctor said at least. Sunggyu thinks that maybe there are kinds of danger that doctors can’t anticipate.

“When can he come home, hyung?” That’s Myungsoo, the naive hope in his tone at odds with the deepness of his voice. 

“It’s going to be a while, Myungsoo. His insides still have to do some healing--” Sunggyu hadn’t really understood the details of that. “--and his legs need time to heal before he can--” Sunggyu swallows and makes himself continue calmly. He’s the leader. He has to hold it together for the rest of them, just like he has since the frantic call from Hyoan-hyung about the accident. He’s done it so far. He can keep doing it as long as Woohyun needs him to. “--before he can learn to walk again.”

They’d known that, of course, that Woohyun would have to re-learn how to walk, but Myungsoo chokes on a sob at the words. But Dongwoo stops crying and instead turns to wrap his arms around Myungsoo as best he can with their size difference, and in any other circumstances it would be hilarious, but that just makes it all the more heartbreaking now.

“Did he say anything, hyung?” Sungjong’s voice is very quiet. Neither he nor Howon have said much at all for days now, spending all their time in Sungjong’s room or in corners sitting silent together. 

Sunggyu looks away. There’s no way in hell he’s going to tell them what Woohyun had said. There’s no way. “Not really,” he says, because it’s all he can bring himself to say.

“I’m going out,” Sungyeol says abruptly, and Sunggyu watches him stomp over to the door and throw on his jacket and shoes and doesn’t try to stop him, even though he knows exactly where Sungyeol is going and a good leader wouldn’t let him. It can’t be good for Sungyeol’s liver, the way he and Kibum keep getting drunk together almost every night. At least they aren’t doing it in public anymore, after that one incident, though Sunggyu doesn’t think that Jaejoong-sunbae’s place is the best for them, not when he already has a drinking problem and will just enable them, not exactly a good chaperone.

But Sunggyu can’t bring himself to say anything to Sungyeol about it, not even to hint that he should stop. It’s not healthy, no, but none of them are exactly having healthy reactions to this, and Sunggyu’s probably the last who can criticize anyone else’s coping methods.

 _At least he’s feeling his pain_ , he thinks as he watches the door slam behind Sungyeol. _Better than turning yourself into stone._

Sunggyu turns his back on still-crying Myungsoo and Dongwoo trying to comfort him, and walks to his room, closes the door, and lays down on his bed.

 

 

Sunggyu cannot believe what he’s hearing. Start preparing for a comeback? _Now_? When Woohyun’s still in the fucking hospital and can’t even walk?

Sunggyu is not one to argue with authority. In fact, he almost never does. But there are some things he won’t stand for no matter who is saying them.

“Are you crazy? How could anyone just expect us to go to back to life as usual after _this_? What the fuck are we going to say to the fans? They’ll think we’re monsters!”

CEO-nim’s face is very calm, but the skin around his eyes goes tight. “You’re going to tell them that it’s what Woohyun wants, Infinite carrying on.”

Sunggyu wants to snarl or punch him in the face. This, right here, is everything he’s ever hated about idol life crammed into one bullshit line. This isn’t what Woohyun wants. Woohyun’s too miserable to want _anything_ except to be fucking whole again. Sunggyu’s gotten pretty good at lying to audiences, can say, “I’m so happy to be here” or “I’m feeling great” or “We love all of our fans” without even flinching. Sometimes he even believes himself. But there’s no way in hell he’s going to tell _this_ lie. He will not betray Woohyun that way.

But CEO-nim’s eyes go narrow when Sunggyu says this. “Oh, yes you will. I don’t care if you like it. But you’ll do it. You’re the one who begged us to continue to pay Woohyun even if he’s no longer bringing in any revenue.”

Sunggyu hurls himself into the bathroom and throws up when he leaves the office. 

 

One day Sunggyu walks into the room and Sungyeol is there, sitting on the foot of the bed, talking surprisingly quietly with Woohyun. Sunggyu halts in shock.

“Ya, Lee Sungyeol! I didn’t give you permission to come here! You’re supposed to be at vocal practice!” _Woohyun didn’t ask for you. He hasn’t asked for anyone._

Sungyeol merely glances over his shoulder, giving Sunggyu a dirty look. “Whatever, hyung,” he says, rolling his eyes and turning his back to him. Woohyun smirks.

It’s the closest thing to a smile Sunggyu has seen from him yet, so he leaves without lecturing Sungyeol about his lack of respect.


	2. the Shoot to Kill 'verse one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be set in the Shoot to Kill 'verse and the premise was that a Sungyeol and a Woohyun from the "canon" universe stumbled into the Shoot to Kill 'verse and were totally freaked out to find themselves pretty much married. Wouldn't that have been fun? (This is probably from 2014 at some point, judging by the living arrangements.)

“Hey, have you seen our remote?”

There are a lot of things that suck about being Lee Sungyeol, but pretty high on the list is ‘being the lightest sleeper on the planet.’ Hoya’s voice jolts him instantly into consciousness, and there’s nothing he wants more than to sink back into sleep, but once he’s awake, he’s awake. 

“I was trying to sleep,” Sungyeol says, voice only cracking a little. He’d gotten three hours of sleep last night, and as soon as they got back from their schedules today, he’d collapsed onto the sofa, not even making it into the bedroom. Now he can hear Hoya rummaging around the room; he’s not even trying to be quiet.

“And I’m trying to watch _Running Man_. Remote. Have you seen it?”

“Why the hell would your remote be down here?” Sungyeol grumbles, flopping back over onto his belly. If Hoya would only go away, he’d be able to fall asleep again. Maybe.

“Jjongie and Gyu-hyung were fighting earlier.”

Oh. Well that made sense. Sort of.

“Well, I don’t know where your remote is, so fuck off and let me sleep.”

“Oooh, testy. Did you piss your husband off? Is that why you’re sleeping on the couch?”

Okay, it’s official: he’s not going to be able to fall asleep again. “What the fuck does that even mean?” he asks, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. As he does, his hoodie falls down around his shoulders, and when he looks up, Hoya is gaping at him.

“What?” Sungyeol asks, defensive. Yeah, so his face tends to swell when he sleeps. It’s not like Howon hasn’t seen that roughly a million times.

“Shit, you finally let them cut your hair? Woohyun’s gonna freak!”

Sungyeol’s hand shoots up to his hair, but it’s the same length it was when he laid down; he hasn’t had a haircut in weeks. Hoya often says things that don’t make sense to anyone but Sungjong, but he’s being even more incoherent today. “My hair is exactly the same length it was when you saw me this morning.”

No one makes judgmental faces better than Hoya. “Right. This morning. When I pulled on the end of your ponytail and you threw a bottle of water at me and the makeup noonas yelled at you for bruising my poor face.”

Ponytail? Sungyeol hasn’t had a ponytail in… _years_. A couple, anyway. “What are you smoking and who did you get it from?”

“Me? I’m not the one who--”

Hoya doesn’t get to finish because suddenly Sungjong is walking into the room. “Oh, Yeol-hyung, I thought you and Woohyun went out--” Sungjong’s eyes fall on Sungyeol and widen, his voice sharpening and going up an octave. “Wait, when did you cut your hair? Does Woohyun know?”

What the _fuck_ are they on about his hair? And Woohyun? Why the fuck would Woohyun care about his hair? Which is _exactly the same as it’s been for the past few weeks_. Sungyeol swings his legs over onto the floor and is about to get testy when they all hear the door to the apartment open down the hall.

“I’m back!” It’s Woohyun’s voice, followed by the sound of shoes being kicked off and then footsteps. He turns the corner into the living room and blinks when he sees Sungyeol. “Yeol. How did you beat me back? I thought you were--” And then his face blanches--and Sungyeol’s never actually seen someone’s face blanch before, but that’s definitely what Woohyun’s does--and his voice is throaty and breathless when he asks, “What the fuck did you do to your hair?”

Okay, that’s it. Sungyeol may be 25, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t still throw a tantrum when he wants to. He stomps his foot before he even realizes he’s doing it. “What the hell are you all on about my hair?” He grabs a handful of it and tugs, half-expecting a wig to fall off, but it’s just his hair, feeling exactly like it did when he brushed it this morning. “It’s hair. It’s black. It’s a normal cut. Maybe I could use a trim, but it can’t possibly look _that_ bad and--what the fuck are you doing?” Woohyun is suddenly right in front of him, reaching for his hair, and Sungyeol smacks his hands away, feeling that surge of strangeness that’s always there lately when Woohyun touches him. It’s part excitement, part fear, part something else altogether, but Sungyeol has become very good at ignoring it over the past few months. Harder to ignore is the lightning bolt of hurt that flashes over Woohyun’s face when Sungyeol shoves his hands away and takes a step back from him. Is everyone on crack today?

Woohyun’s eyes still look hurt, but he’s got an expression Sungyeol knows is supposed to be casual and pleasant plastered on his face now. It looks hopelessly stupid. “Of course it doesn’t look bad,” Woohyun says, though the words sound forced. “Every style looks good on you. It’s just very...sudden.” Sungyeol can’t think of a single way to respond to that nonsense, so he just gapes at Woohyun, who shrugs, his shoulders twitching in discomfort. “I just didn’t know that you were getting tired of the other. It’s a bit of a shock, that you didn’t tell me you were going to do it. You know.”

No. No, Sungyeol absolutely doesn’t know. “Why the fuck would I tell you before I change my hair? Do I need your permission? Are you my stylist now?”

Woohyun always looks like a kicked puppy when he’s hurt and honestly it makes Sungyeol’s chest ache to see it, but none of this is making any sense at all so he doesn’t soften even as Woohyun’s mouth tightens and he stumbles over his words. “Of course not--I mean, it’s your hair, you can do whatever you want with it, of _course_ you can. I just kind of thought...you’d tell me. First. If you were thinking of changing it.”

Anything Sungyeol might say--and he has no idea what that might be, confusion having washed his mind blank--is cut off by Hoya groaning. “If you two are going to have one of your married spats, can you at least wait till Jjongie and I are out of the room?” He pivots towards Sungjong. “Seriously? Is this what couples fight about after they’ve been together for years? _Haircuts_?”

Sungyeol is quite sure he understands each of those words individually, but together they make no sense to him, rattling around in his head with the ones from before, honestly with everything any of the others have said since he woke up from his nap. Did he have a stroke while he was sleeping? Is he still dreaming? Or hallucinating? Or has everyone else gone very crazy? He can’t even think of what to say. He sputters.

In the hallway, the door opens again. “Got the fish sauce!” a voice says. “Last bottle!” A thump of one shoe hitting the floor, then another. The voice is familiar, and so is the gait of the footsteps walking down the hall. Familiar in a way that makes the hair on Sungyeol’s back rise and a chill rush over his scalp. The other three have frozen in place, too, and all of them stand in silence as they hear one of the bedroom doors open. “‘Hyun? Are you taking a nap? Seriously? I thought you said you were going to cook.”

His face paler than Sungyeol has seen it, Woohyun swallows, makes a strange sound, then manages to gasp out, “I’m out here.”

“Then who’s in your bed?” The other voice again, from the bedroom, and Sungyeol’s mind suddenly supplies him with a name to go along with it, but it _can’t_ be--that doesn’t make any _sense_ , maybe this _is_ still a dream. “Fucking hell, Kim Myungsoo, if you’re sleeping in someone else’s bed again I’m going to beat you to death, you disgusting creep, I swear to--”

Sungyeol suddenly realizes his legs are moving. That he’s walking. In the direction of the bedrooms. He’s not altogether sure that he’s breathing. But he is moving. Forward. Yes, that is happening.

“Okay, what the hell, I thought you said you were out there--are you practicing throwing your voice?” The familiar voice grows louder the closer Sungyeol gets to it. “Are you planning on pursuing ventriloquy when we disband? I can think of a lot better career moves than that, Hyun. I mean, I can’t make promises about my future prospects, but I’m pretty sure I can support you well enough you won’t have to resort to _that_.”

When Sungyeol reaches the door of the bedroom, his brain shuts down. It can’t comprehend what he’s seeing. Because what he’s seeing is a groggy-looking, sleepy-eyed Woohyun laying on the bed, even though Sungyeol knows good and well that Woohyun is behind him, out in the living room. And standing over the bed, obviously having just thrown back the covers is a tall figure with lanky limbs, long lightish hair, and no butt. Sungyeol hasn’t ever seen that particular figure from this angle before, not in real life, and he’s pretty sure he can’t be seeing it now. 

And then the figure turns around and there’s no doubt at all that this is a dream or a hallucination or something even more sinister.

Because Sungyeol is now looking into his own face.

 

 

Chaos ensues, obviously. There’s a lot of shouting--both accusations and questions no one knows the answers to--and some shoving (and Sungyeol’s head does this weird dizzying dip thing like he’s on a carnival ride that turned him suddenly upside down when he realizes he shoved _himself_ ) and it’s a good five minutes before Sungjong slams his hand down on the top of the TV and shouts, “Enough!”

Sungjong is not to be disobeyed when he’s using that tone, and everyone lapses into a thick silence, Sungyeol still glaring at this--imposter who has his _face_.

“Okay,” Sungjong says, in a deceptively calm voice. “What we need to do is determine who’s the real Sungyeol and Woohyun.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sungyeol shouts just as the Other Sungyeol shouts, “ _I’m_ Sungyeol, obviously!” Sungyeol glares and the Other Sungyeol glares back and who the fuck does this guy think he is, walking around with Sungyeol’s face and looking cooler than him with his long hair and his earrings? Sungyeol scowls around the room and almost does a double-take when he sees that both of the Woohyun’s are standing in identical poses, their hands folded, their faces strained. Their hairstyles are a few inches and a couple of hues different, they’re wearing different clothes, but other than that, they look exactly alike.

Or--almost exactly. The Woohyun who had just been sleeping actually looks a little more ragged around the edges than the other one, but it’s the typical kind of idol exhaustion Sungyeol sees in the mirror--and on Woohyun’s face--every day, maybe compounded by the fact that he just woke up ten minutes ago. The Woohyun who’d gotten handsy with Sungyeol’s hair, on the other hand, looks a couple of pounds heavier--in a good, healthy way--and a lot more rested, but he’s still recognizably Woohyun, just Woohyun as he looks after an actual vacation. 

And looking from one Woohyun to the other is making Sungyeol dizzy, so he spins back to focus on Sungjong.

“How’re we supposed to figure it out?” Hoya demands. He’s got his judging face back on, but Sungyeol knows him well enough to know it’s the one he pulls out whenever he’s out of his depth. 

The Woohyun who’d been sleeping points at Sungyeol. “This is obviously the real Sungyeol--that’s the hair he had this morning.”

Hoya makes a protesting noise. “What the hell?” Healthier Woohyun asks. “ _This_ is what his hair looked like this morning,” he says, reaching up to pull on a long strand of Other Sungyeol’s hair. The Other Sungyeol doesn’t push his hand away.

“That’s right,” he says instead. “I’ve had this look for months now since I convinced the stylist noonas to let me grow it out again.”

“Um, no,” Sungyeol argues. “I would know if my hair was long. It’s been like this for a while now--it’s been years since I had long hair.”

“Sungyeol-hyung’s hair has definitely been long for a while now,” Sungjong says. “That means that this is the real Sungyeol,” he gestures to the Other Sungyeol. “And so this must be the real Woohyun.” The chosen Woohyun sidles closer to Other Sungyeol, his shoulders relaxing a little.

This is not okay. “What the hell do you mean ‘real’ Sungyeol?” Sungyeol’s voice cracks as he speaks, but he doesn’t even notice. “I _am_ the real Sungyeol!” He thumps his chest. “Me! Lee Sungyeol! The one and only!”

“Clearly not.” Sungjong’s voice is dry and it makes Sungyeol want to punch him, no matter how much he loves his bandmate. Sungjong pivots to face the Other pair. “What song did Dongwoo-hyung play in the van this morning over and over till Sunggyu-hyung told him he was going to punch all his teeth out?”

“What?” Sungyeol snaps. “That didn’t happen! Dongwoo-hyung wasn’t even in the van this morning--he and Hoya left early from the schedule to do something Infinite H-related!”

“Fly to the Sky’s ‘Missing You’!” the Other Sungyeol announces, shooting Sungyeol a triumphant look.


	3. the Yeollin High School AU one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no idea when I wrote this, but since I have no memory of it, it must have been sometime in 2013? Maybe? Anyway, it was a high school AU with Sungyeol/Ellin that I was going to write for Ranya, but I'm a terrible person and didn't finish it. Sorry, babe!

“Look, Yeol, it’s your nemesis,” Woohyun says, nodding to where Minyoung is standing with her friends in line at the front of the cafeteria. Why can’t she brush her damn hair? She looks like she just rolled out of bed. 

“By ‘nemesis,’ you mean in the Batman and Catwoman sense, right?” Hoya asks, leaning back in his chair. 

Sungyeol scowls at him and is about to snark back when Dongwoo raises his head from his plate. “Wait, Sungyeollie has a nemesis? Who is it? And they’re banging like Batman and Catwoman?”

“They’re not banging, hyung,” Sungjong says with an eye roll. “Sungyeol just wishes they were and is covering it up by pretending to hate her.”

“Ya, Lee Sungjong, do you want to die?” Sungyeol shouts, leaning over the table with his fist raised. 

“Try it and I’ll break your wrist.” Hoya’s voice is lazy and flat, but Sungyeol swallows hard and sits back down in his chair, still scowling at Sungjong, who looks annoyingly smug at having his bodyguard defend him. Little shit.

“Would she look good in a catsuit?” Dongwoo wonders out loud, and Sungyeol almost chokes to death at the mental image of Minyoung’s long legs (and ass) encased in leather and her mouth quirking in a grin under the black of her mask. Fuck _no_ , bad mental image! He _hates_ this girl! It doesn’t matter how amazing she’d look in something skin tight and slinky, she’s the _devil_. 

“You tell me, hyung,” Woohyun answers, pointing, though Sungyeol doesn’t see it because he has his face buried in his hands.

His head shoots up, though, when Dongwoo asks, “Who, Minyoung?”

“You know her, hyung?” Sungjong sounds amused. Sungyeol is too busy gaping to notice.

“I _love_ Minyoung,” Dongwoo says excitedly, and Sungyeol doesn't think he’s ever hated himself more than he does now, when his stomach lurches in what he can’t even admit to himself is jealousy. “She’s the _best_. She’s in my world history class, and we study together and memorize all the names by making up fake video games for them to star in.”

Woohyun looks confused. “I thought that girl was somebody named Ellin?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s her nickname,” Dongwoo says with a grin and a series of nods. 

“Ellin is _Minyoung_?” Just when Sungyeol had thought he couldn’t be more horrified. He’s heard lots of stories about Ellin--for a long time, he and Woohyun and Hoya made fun of Dongwoo for what they assumed was a crush. But Dongwoo had insisted they’re just friends, and eventually the rest of them believed it. But they still teased him about how this girl couldn’t possibly be as awesome as Dongwoo made her sound. He’d offered to introduce her to them a thousand times, but they’d all refused, because, as Hoya said, “You’ve talked her up so much she’ll only be a disappointment.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dongwoo says. “Kim Minyoung.”

There’s dead silence at their table for a moment--which isn’t very silent at all, considering they’re in the middle of the crowded cafeteria--and then Hoya and Woohyun burst out laughing so hard that their trays start rattling on the table in front of them, and even Sungjong snickers a little. Dongwoo grins along, but he clearly has no idea what they’re laughing at, and Sungyeol lets his head drop to the table with a thud.


	4. the Key's POV Wooyeol one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written while Wooyeol's drama was airing, apparently. So that was 2014.

Kibum isn’t exactly known for his patience, but he thinks he deserves some sort of award for putting up with this as well as he has. He’s heard it all a hundred thousand times since he and Woohyun became friends, and yet he doesn’t rip into Woohyun when the topic comes up again. Okay, maybe he’s a little caustic on occasion, but who can blame him? It’s been _years_ now and nothing ever changes, nothing ever happens. And honestly, if it were anyone but Woohyun, Kibum would have made it absolutely clear a long time ago that he did not intend to listen to any of the pining and the whining anymore. But it _is_ Woohyun, Woohyun who is his best friend on a level he hadn’t known was possible, and there’s something about Nam Woohyun that softens Kim Kibum’s sharp edges. 

And really, he’s been heroically patient in dealing with this shit, but enough is enough.

“...and I don’t know, it _hurt_ , ‘Bum, being with him like that. Like neither one of us had shirts on and we were lying there and it felt so natural and yeah, there were the lights and the camera and the staff all around, but I barely even noticed that because it was _him_ and I mean we’ve shared beds before of course, but nothing like that and--”

Kibum rolls his eyes. Enough really is enough.

So he says what he’s been wanting to say for years now (he _can_ self-edit when he wants to, he just usually doesn’t want to). “Hyun. Shut the fuck up.”

Woohyun blinks, and Kibum sighs in frustration as his best friend asks, “What?”

“I’m fucking sick of this, man. You’re in love with Sungyeol. You’ve been in love with him for years. Unrequited love sucks, sure, but it sucks the same way now that it did three years ago and I’ve already heard every detail. I feel like this is all we ever talk about--no, I feel like all I do when we’re together is listen to you whine about how much you want him and how you can never have him, and I really don’t want to hear about it anymore.”

Hurt confusion settles across Woohyun’s face, and maybe Kibum should have been a bit softer with his words, but soft isn’t exactly his style. Woohyun’s mouth hangs open for a moment and then it snaps closed for a second before he speaks. “Well, excuse me for thinking that my best friend would care about what’s going on in my life.”

Kibum can see how stung Woohyun is, and he probably should have asked Nicole or Jinki or somebody how to have this conversation in a way that wouldn’t put Woohyun on the defensive, but it’s too late now. “Hyun, I care. But the thing is, what’s going on in your life now is what’s been going on in your life for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s gotten really fucking boring listening to the same thing a million times in a row.”

The brief flexing of Woohyun’s hand around his cup is the only warning Kibum gets. “I’m so sorry to bore you, your highness. I won’t waste any more of your time,” Woohyun snaps, and he’s pushing his chair back and Kibum knows he’s going to storm away from the table and go off and pout somewhere, and Kibum can’t really let that happen. It’s Woohyun.

So he grabs his arm and tugs him back down in his seat and says, “Look, that’s not what I meant.” Woohyun arches a skeptical brow at him, and sometimes it’s so surreal, seeing his own expressions on someone else’s face. “I mean, it’s true, but that’s not the real issue.”

“So what is the real issue then?” Woohyun’s voice is still defensive, but Kibum can hear the vulnerability trembling below the aggression. All of Woohyun’s armor is paper-thin to Kibum. 

“This isn’t healthy. That’s the real issue. So you love him. You never _do_ anything about it, Hyun. You’re fucking stuck, and it’s not healthy.”

“Yeah, well, what the hell am I supposed to do about it, huh?” Woohyun demands, and maybe only Kibum would hear the pleading note in the question. “There is _nothing I can do_.”

It’s not like Kibum hasn’t pushed Woohyun to make a move before, but every time he has, Woohyun’s eyes go wide and a torrent of protests spill out of his mouth, and Kibum drops it. He’d thought Woohyun just wasn’t ready yet, and he’d gotten that: it took even him a while to feel comfortable with his orientation, and he knows bisexuality can be even more confusing. Kibum is a big believer in coming out to the degree that you can but also in protecting yourself if you can’t, and confronting your sexuality on your own timetable. He’d thought Woohyun needed time, and he was cool with giving it to him.

But he’s had time. He’s had years and years, and he’s still making moony eyes at Lee Sungyeol and complaining to Kibum about how Lee Sungyeol will never love him back and probably crying himself to sleep over Lee Sungyeol, and frankly, something’s gotta give.

“Uh, yeah there is. You’ve even got two whole options. You can either tell him or get the hell over him, but you need to do one or the other because being stuck in this one place for so long is rotting you, ‘Hyun.”

Woohyun’s eyes flash. “Oh, like it’s that easy.”

“I didn’t say it was easy. But it’s fucking necessary.”

“I can’t make myself get over him, Kibum. You think I haven’t tried?”

Kibum knows he has. He knows how long Woohyun spent smothering his feelings and how long he spent trying to battle them back and how none of it’s worked. Kibum’s been in love a few times before, had his heart broken a couple of times, even, and yeah, had crushes that went nowhere. But none of them went as deep as Woohyun’s feelings for Sungyeol do; none of them made him suffer and ache like Woohyun does. If Kibum is honest, that’s probably where most of his irritation is coming from: he doesn’t like seeing Woohyun in pain, especially when that pain drags on and on and no one does anything about it. 

“Then tell him.”

Woohyun smacks a hand down on the table. The middle-aged couple on the other side of the restaurant, the only other customers, glance over at him before turning their attention back to each other. “How many times do I have to tell you I can’t tell him, you idiot?”

“You _can_ \--”

“He. Likes. Girls. Every girl. All the time. It would be _begging_ to be rejected. Not to mention it would make him uncomfortable and probably completely fuck up our friendship. And that’ll affect band dynamics and, like, ruin Infinite.”

Very occasionally, Kibum has some sympathy for the people who complain to him that he’s too dramatic. “Don’t be so melodramatic, dumbass. You’re both professionals and you’ve been friends forever. It’s not going to ruin Infinite. Even if he rejects you, he’s not going to, like, friend-divorce you. And you’ll never know if you have a chance if you don’t fucking just _tell him_.”

“I can’t tell him,” Woohyun says, sounding mildly panicked. Then, stony: “I can’t tell him.”

Kibum is completely bored with this topic of conversation. “Fine. Whatever.” So he changes the topic to the new designer he’s been communicating with and the tightness around Woohyun’s eyes loosens just a little, but Kibum still hasn’t changed his mind about enough being enough. Woohyun can’t sit around longing for this guy in silence forever. Something _has_ to change, it’s like the rules of physics, and Kibum isn’t much for rules, but even he can’t argue with science.

 

 

Lee Sungyeol doesn’t look at all surprised to see him when Kibum shows up on set. “Woohyun’s done filming for the day,” he says, scratching at the tag at the collar of his ridiculous school uniform. “He’s probably back at the dorm already. Or the practice room.”

“I’m not here to see Woohyun,” Kibum says, and that does make Lee Sungyeol look surprised--or at least skeptical.

“Yeah? Then why are you here?”

“I want to talk to you.”

The look Sungyeol gives him is disbelieving. “Me.”

“Yes, you.”

“Why?”

“Do you have a minute?”

Sungyeol glances over his shoulder back to where the staff are fiddling with some of the lighting. “Ten minutes.”

Kibum won’t need longer than that.


	5. the "We Need to Talk About Myunggyu" one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written while Diss Is Infinite was airing and Myunggyu were being disgusting together. So yeah, early 2014. Apparently the title was going to be "i can see through all of the pictures you keep on the wall" and the tag line was going to be "We need to talk about Myunggyu."

“Hyung, can we talk?”

Dongwoo and Woohyun are looking down at him, concern stamped on one face and determination on the other, and Sunggyu knows exactly what this is about, and he also knows it’s the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

“I’d really rather not,” he says, rolling over and picking up the remote again. He just ate so much that his stomach feels uncomfortably full—one of his favorite feelings in the world—and now all he wants to do is loll around on the floor in his sweats and watch mindlessly enjoyable TV. “ _Running Man_ is on.”

“It’s a re-run, hyung.” Woohyun is unimpressed. “And when else are we going to do it? This is the first night off we’ve had in weeks.”

Yeah, which is exactly why Sunggyu doesn’t want to have it ruined by Dongwoo and Woohyun staging an intervention or whatever. He wants to do _nothing_ for as long as he can, but of course his dongsaengs just have to ruin it. Sometimes he wonders if he really wants to have kids. His parents expect it, of course, so he wants to give them grandchildren, but honestly if six grown adults annoy him this much, how could he handle screaming little babies or shrieking toddlers? Well, he reminds himself, at least when he has kids he’ll have a wife to take care of them. He won’t have to do much of the work, not like looking after Infinite by himself. It won’t be so bad with a wife.

“Hyung—”

“Go _away_ ,” he moans, dropping his chin to his crossed arms. It’s times like these that he misses the puppies. Sure, they made messes, but he could always get Sungjong to clean those up. The puppies wanted his attention but never demanded uncomfortable conversations or even that he get up off the floor. His members are so much needier.

“Hyung—” Dongwoo starts again, but Woohyun rolls his eyes and leans over to snatch the remote out of Sunggyu’s hand. “Hyung, we’re talking, so get off your lazy ass.”

Sunggyu toys with the idea of trying to get the remote back, but it seems like too much effort. “If you want to talk, you can come down here.”

“Do you really want to do this out here? Howon could come back at any moment,” Woohyun says, eyes narrowed.

Sunggyu considers this, looking around the living room of the small apartment he now shares with Dongwoo and Howon, the other four members several floors away. It’s a lot quieter now that he doesn’t have to live with Myungsoo and Sungyeol yelling and roughhousing all over the place or Woohyun and Sungjong getting angry at each other over nothing and competing to see who can be the biggest drama queen. Sure, Dongwoo can be loud, but that’s mostly laughter (and okay, Sunggyu has a soft spot for Dongwoo’s laughter), and he finally got Howon to obey his order to put on headphones when he’s playing his hip hop, so it’s nothing Sunggyu can’t deal with. He’s glad to be away from Sungyeol’s cat and Woohyun’s nagging and Sungjong’s hair products. But sometimes he still thinks he’d do anything to have a place entirely to himself. If this were _his_ apartment, he wouldn’t have to get off the floor in fear that Howon will get back from wherever he is and overhear the impending conversation and start making inappropriate jokes. 

“Fine.” But Sunggyu isn’t going to do this sitting up. He _will_ spend his evening off as prostrate as possible, so he drags himself up and lets the other two trail him into his and Dongwoo’s room where he promptly flops down on his bed. Woohyun rolls his eyes, but Dongwoo just sits down beside him, grabbing Sunggyu’s foot—which is weird, but he probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it, knowing Dongwoo—and biting his lip. 

Dongwoo and Woohyun exchange looks as Woohyun closes the door, and Sunggyu wonders irritably if they think he’s really dumb enough not to notice. Dongwoo shifts uncomfortably and if it were just Dongwoo, Sunggyu would take pity on him and just start the conversation himself no matter how little he wants to have it, but Woohyun is here and if Woohyun is going to insist on being Woohyun about this, he’ll have to do all the work. Sunggyu certainly isn’t going to.

He’s probably got a smirk on his face and probably Woohyun knows exactly what it means and probably that’s why he scowls before he crosses his arms and announces, “Hyung, we need to talk about what’s going on with you and Myungsoo lately.”

Yeah, exactly what Sunggyu had known this would be about. If Dongwoo weren’t still holding onto his foot, he’d probably flip over onto his side and make Woohyun address his back, but Dongwoo’s thumb moving over the skin of his ankle is kind of soothing. Dongwoo has that way about him.

A moment passes, and Sunggyu knows that the other two are waiting for him to respond in some way, but _he’s_ not the one wanting to have this conversation, _they_ are, so they can be the ones to talk. 

“Are you really going to be a baby about this? You’re really not going to answer our questions?” Woohyun demands. 

“You haven’t asked any questions yet, Woohyun-ah,” Sunggyu points out, pleased with himself. Woohyun deserves any smart-ass answers he gets; it’s not like any of this is his business anyway. It’s also not Dongwoo’s, but Dongwoo is convinced that every other member’s concerns are his own and his own to fix, and none of them would bother arguing with him. Sunggyu is annoyed that this is even happening, but not really at Dongwoo. It’s really hard to be annoyed at Dongwoo.

“You are such an _ass_ , hyung. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been all over Myungsoo lately, and it’s getting out of hand.”

Something twists inside Sunggyu, but he ignores it. He’s been ignoring a lot of things lately. “And why is this something that needs to be talked about? The fans understand the concept of fanservice, and you and Sungyeol are the ones who are practically having sex onstage.” 

“It’s not the fans I’m worried about,” Woohyun says, ignoring the last comment, and that was so _not_ what Sunggyu was expecting that the surprise of it pulls him upright. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Dongwoo’s hand tightens around Sunggyu’s bare foot. “We’re just a little bit worried you and Myungsoo aren’t on the same page,” he say in his peacemaker voice. 

“You’re leading him on, and it’s not fair,” Woohyun corrects, voice as sharp as Dongwoo’s is kind, and Sunggyu’s heart is drumming in his chest.

“What the fuck are you—”

“Don’t play innocent about this,” Woohyun interrupts, and normally Sunggyu doesn’t let Woohyun get away with interrupting him, but his palms are sweating and he has to grab fistfuls of his sheets to have something to hold onto. “You’re flirting with him and petting him and letting him hang all over you, and he’s going to get the wrong idea, and that will only end badly. You’re going to hurt him, and that isn’t okay.”

Sunggyu shuts his mouth where it’s dropped open, then opens it again. “What’re you—Myungsoo likes _girls_.”

“So do you,” Woohyun shoots back. “It doesn’t stop you from playing with Myungsoo like he’s in on the joke.”

Dongwoo’s little caresses have morphed from soothing to fraying his nerves, and Sunggyu jerks his foot out from Dongwoo’s grip and is standing in front of Woohyun before he even plans to do it. “What the fuck are you saying?”

Woohyun’s eyes are steady as they stare back into Sunggyu’s so close to his, and Sunggyu kind of wants to punch him even if the rational voice in his mind is whispering, _He’s just concerned, it’s because he cares about Myungsoo, and it isn’t like he isn’t right_.

“I’m saying you’re an asshole for treating him like this, hyung, and—”

Dongwoo is suddenly between them, using his hip to push Woohyun back a step or two. “Woohyunnie, this is not what we talked about, this isn’t the way—”

Sunggyu holds Woohyun’s eyes for a heartbeat longer, then turns his attention to Dongwoo. “Okay, then, fine, Dongwoo, _you_ tell me what you two are getting at.”

Dongwoo looks a bit taken aback, but his face clears quickly and he nods, and Sunggyu can tell by his expression that he’s planned this all out, maybe even practiced it in the mirror. “Hyung, you know how Myungsoo is about affection. You have to set limits with him, make it clear what’s appropriate and what isn’t. And you haven’t been doing that, and Myungsoo’s been getting a little...attached. We’re saying—”

“We’re saying you’re making him fall for you and you don’t even give a fuck.”

Every one of Sunggyu’s internal organs leap at the words, but he grabs hold of the emotion animating them—an emotion he won’t name—and transforms it into fury. He can’t allow himself to feel anything else right now. “And how is that any of your business, Nam Woohyun? What, you’re fine with it when it’s your best friend, but suddenly when it’s a member of your own group you’re uncomfortable?”

“Don’t act thick, hyung, you know I don’t care about that. And honestly, it’s better than you being anywhere near women.”

Well isn’t that just like Woohyun. “Oh, of course you want to keep them all to yourself.”

“I meant for _their_ sakes. What was that with the fan the other day? How could you embarrass her that way? Who the hell cares if she wants to call you ‘oppa’?”

“There was _no way_ she was younger than me. No way.”

“And how does that justify humiliating her in public? Maybe she just looks older. And even if she lied about her age, it was just because she’s got a fantasy of you in her head as her ideal boyfriend. A fantasy you probably shattered, by the way. Way to lose us a fan. We can really afford that these days.”

“Guys!” Dongwoo’s back between them again, a hand on each of their chests, eyes swinging from one of them to the other. “Let’s cool off a little bit, okay?”

Woohyun ignores him. “I don’t give a fuck if every single one of our members turns out to be gay and in love with Sungjong. What I care about is you treating Myungsoo like he’s a plaything and how much it’s going to hurt him when he figures out that your weird little thing isn’t going anywhere.”

“You think I’m _playing_ with him?” Woohyun really thinks that? Sunggyu knows that somewhere deep inside, the accusation hurts, but mostly he’s just angry. How dare this kid?

“Yeah, hyung, I think that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“And just why do you think I’m doing that? We both know I’m not—” He can’t bring himself to say the word, no matter how casually Woohyun can throw it around. To Woohyun, it’s just an adjective to describe his best friend, no more important than “outgoing” or “fashionable.” To Sunggyu it’s...well, it’s something he doesn’t let himself think about.

“Nobody said you were, hyung,” Dongwoo interjects.

“No, you’re not gay,” Woohyun agrees, rolling his eyes again. “But that’s your whole problem, isn’t it? You can’t even bring yourself to say the word.”

“Why would I _need_ to say the word, Nam Woohyun?” Sunggyu grits out. He really thinks he might punch him now. This is going too far. 

“It’s not about that word since it doesn’t apply to you, it’s about the fact that you can’t even admit that some guys are attracted to other guys, gay or not, much less that you might be attracted to Myungsoo.”

Sunggyu reels back, hands fisting up, and he really is going to punch Woohyun at any moment. “What the—”

“You want him, and you can’t admit it, and so you’re playing with him, and he’s falling for you, and soon he’s going to push for something you won’t give and you’ll break his heart and that’s _fucked up_ , Kim Sunggyu. That’s really fucked up.”

Just before Sunggyu can launch himself at Woohyun, both of Dongwoo’s hands clap down on his shoulders, holding him in place. Sunggyu goes a bit dizzy, suddenly focusing on Dongwoo’s face that’s set in an expression of determination almost as strong as his hands. Dongwoo’s so small, so kind and joyful and weird and silly, but there’s so much strength in him, and it always leaves Sunggyu a bit dazed when it shows.

“Woohyun, sit down and shut up,” Dongwoo says, voice as firm as it was soothing only moments before. “This is not helping.” He doesn’t even turn around to see if Woohyun has obeyed—which he has, scowl on his face. Dongwoo’s attention stays focused on Sunggyu, but when he speaks, his voice drops, his words quieter but no less intense. “Hyung, I don’t know what you’re feeling. I have my guesses, but it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that you need to make sure that no matter what you feel or intend to do, that Myungsoo understands. We’re _worried_ , hyung; we don’t want him getting hurt.”

Sunggyu’s shoulders are tense in Dongwoo’s grip. “Myungsoo is an adult now,” he says, and firmly ignores the little voice in the back of his mind that whispers, _Yeah, and that’s the problem, isn’t it?_ Sunggyu wants to punch that voice even more than he wants to punch Woohyun, because the last thing he needs is to be reminded that all of his problems are coming from the fact that suddenly Myungsoo isn’t an adorable little kid cosplaying as L anymore—or, okay, he _is_ still an adorable little kid sometimes, but he isn’t all the time, and the times when he isn’t are the times that make Sunggyu’s skin go hot and that’s what started this whole stupid mess: him noticing that Myungsoo is an adult now.

“Yes, Myungsoo’s an adult, but he’s an adult who’s only had one girlfriend and you know how that ended, hyung.” Dongwoo dips his head a little closer to Sunggyu’s like he wants to press their foreheads together. “We just want to make sure he doesn’t get hurt again.”

“You think I’d _hurt_ him?” _Dongwoo_ thinks that?

“Not on purpose, hyung, of course not,” Dongwoo hurries to reassure him. “But, hyung, when two people think their relationship is headed in completely different directions—”

“Where are you _getting_ this?” What’s surging up inside Sunggyu is too dangerous to allow, so he forces himself to feel bewilderment instead. 

“Oh, my _God_ , hyung, I swear to God—” Woohyun starts, bouncing up to his feet again, but Sunggyu really isn’t playing thick this time.

“I don’t mean why you think I—I mean where are getting the idea that he wants me back?”

Everything in the room goes very quiet. Sunggyu takes a ragged breath and a step back from Dongwoo, whose hands fall off his shoulders. Then he turns around very slowly and stares at the wall and tries to think of nothing at all.

Woohyun and Dongwoo are exchanging glances again behind him; he knows without looking. Dongwoo’s voice is tentative again when he finally speaks. “Hyung, haven’t you seen how he looks at you?”

And there are Myungsoo’s shining eyes, staring back into his, and Sunggyu thinks his hands might be shaking. “He looks at everyone like that. At Sungyeol—at Sungjong.”

Dongwoo’s voice is so, so quiet. “It’s different, hyung. And the way he touches you—”

The skin of Myungsoo’s nape under his fingers, the warmth of him curled up into his side. “He touches everyone like that. Sungyeol—and you.”

“No, hyung. It’s not the way he touches me and Sungyeol.”

Sunggyu counts his breaths up to ten. Then up to twenty.

Dongwoo’s soft voice cuts through the silence. “Hyung, did you really not know?”

Sunggyu doesn’t say anything. Sunggyu can’t say anything. Sunggyu has said too much already.

Woohyun lets out an incredulous burst of laughter. “It’s not that he didn’t know, it’s that he didn’t let himself think about it. Denial, that’s what it is.”

“Why don’t you just shut the hell up and mind your own business, Nam Woohyun?” Sunggyu snaps, not bothering to turn around to glare at him. If he turned around, Dongwoo’s sympathetic eyes would be waiting for him, and he couldn’t handle that, not right now.

He doesn’t need to turn around anyway because Woohyun stomps over and positions himself in front of him, glaring at him. “You’ve been in denial forever, and I don’t give a fuck, hyung, I really don’t. You know how you act around any older sunbae who’s willing to give you attention. You know what Heechul-nim’s talking about when he says he wants to climb on your back. You enjoy it, and I’m sure you never intended to act on any of it, because you also do like women so you don’t have to admit any of it to yourself, and that’s fine, you can flirt with whatever hyung you want to flirt with and it doesn’t matter because they’re not expecting anything from you. But Myungsoo is different. Myungsoo is different, and you know it.”

Sunggyu just stares at Woohyun, refusing to drop his eyes, refusing to speak. Behind him, Dongwoo lets out a long sigh, and then he’s shuffling over to stand beside them, hand slipping into Sunggyu’s. 

“Hyung, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. It doesn’t matter how you feel about Myungsoo, it really doesn’t—if you want to go out and find a girl to marry and have a million kids, that’s okay. But it’s not fair for you to act like this with him if you don’t want it to mean anything. It’s not fair.”

This whole conversation is a trainwreck, one of the most excruciating Sunggyu has ever had, and the worst thing about it is that every word Woohyun and Dongwoo have said is true.

And Sunggyu really, really doesn’t know what to do about that.

 

 

Myungsoo is stumbling out of the van after Sungyeol when Sunggyu waves him over. “Myungsoo-yah.”

Any of the others would grumble a ‘what do you want now, hyung? my bed is calling me’ or something along those lines, demand an explanation before they listen to him, but Myungsoo comes over to him immediately, even if he doesn’t hurry quite as fast as he normally does--it’s well after midnight, after all, and they’ve been up since 4:30. 

“Can you stay awake long enough to talk to hyung for a minute before you go to bed?” Sunggyu asks when Myungsoo falls into step beside him.

Concern creases Myungsoo’s forehead, but he nods. “Of course, hyung.” He probably thinks he’s in trouble, that he must have done something wrong if Sunggyu wants to talk to him now even though they all just want to go to bed. Sunggyu can practically hear Myungsoo’s thoughts: _It must be bad, if leader has to talk to me right now instead of waiting for later_. Sunggyu lets his hand settle on the back of Myungsoo’s neck in that way he knows Myungsoo finds comforting--and okay, maybe Sunggyu enjoys it more than a little himself. He feels a little of the tension bleed out of Myungsoo’s body, and he wishes it would make him feel more relaxed himself.

Everyone’s too tired to be quiet on the elevator ride up, and when they reach the first stop, Howon holds the door open for Dongwoo.

“No, it’s okay, Hoya, I’m going to sleep with Woohyunnie tonight.”

Howon gives him a skeptical look, but doesn’t push it, and Sunggyu can’t bring himself to meet Dongwoo’s eyes--Dongwoo’s figured it out, which means Woohyun has probably figured it out, which means that Woohyun’s probably looking smug and Dongwoo looking hopeful and Sunggyu doesn’t want to deal with either one right now. He steers Myungsoo towards the apartment, his thumb skimming against the soft skin of the back of Myungsoo’s neck as they wait for Howon to punch in the code. Howon grunts a goodnight and then heads straight into his room, slamming the door behind him; he’s too tired even to shower tonight, Sunggyu knows, and mentally makes a note to make sure to wake him up early enough to get one in the morning.

He nudges Myungsoo towards his own room, and Myungsoo goes willingly enough, and Sunggyu shuts the door and takes a minute to stare at the door handle and try to gather his thoughts.

“Hyung? Is everything okay?” There’s that concern in Myungsoo’s voice again, but trust there, too, like he’s worried about what Sunggyu wants to talk about but trusts that whatever it is, Sunggyu will take care of it. That particular tone shouldn’t be as appealing as it is, but then everything about Myungsoo is pretty damn appealing lately.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Myungsoo, you’re not in trouble.”


	6. the Wooyeol Rock Band AU one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written when I made [this](http://queenofattolia.tumblr.com/post/95252776111/great-art-is-about-woohyun-and-sungyeol-as) (which was in turn inspired by [this photoshoot). The date on this says August 14 and I'm assuming that's also 2014. It was going to be called "electric shock."](http://queenofattolia.tumblr.com/post/94719057006/i-love-how-laurens-wooyeol-fics-slowly-turn-into)

A backstage is a backstage is a backstage, and though Woohyun knows this one is hundreds of miles away from the one where he met Sungyeol, he can’t for the life of him tell them apart. They smell the same, like sweat and electricity barely contained by a multitude of wires, and the air is thick and sticky now like it was then. Sungyeol’s mouth tastes the same, too, his hair feels the same around Woohyun’s fingers, and Woohyun’s pretty sure he’s riding Sungyeol’s leg in exactly the same rhythm as the first time. There’ve been other backstages between then and now, pressed up against Sungyeol in some shadow-hung corner behind a stack of speakers, the wail of some other band’s lead guitar cutting through the screaming of the crowd. Sweat inches down Woohyun’s back and this time could be last time could be the time before that, like each time with Sungyeol is actually just one time echoed again and again. Once when they were first starting out, Woohyun picked up a microphone whose wiring hadn’t been done properly and a shock surged through his body, hot and fierce and grabbing every part of him, and that’s how it feels with Sungyeol, only sustained, only good. 

He’d felt a forerunner of that shock when he saw Sungyeol for the first time. Their bands were both opening for some bigger band, and somehow in the press and clamor of backstage, Woohyun didn’t actually see Infinite’s drummer until they were onstage doing their set. Woohyun had already checked his amp and he liked the sound of the band onstage, so he peeked around the corner and saw their lead singer, throwing himself into the song; their almost offensively beautiful bassist; their lead guitar who looked like some kind of god of music even though ten minutes ago Woohyun had seen him laugh so hard at something the lead singer said that he tripped over a wire and almost fell on his face. Woohyun skimmed his eyes over them, observing that they had the elements to go far: actual musical talent and sex appeal. 

But ‘sex appeal’ got redefined when he saw the drummer, and that’s when the first shock raced through his veins. Beat’s drummer had the prettiest eyes Woohyun had ever seen; a mouth that was made for all sorts of obscene things; a fall of long brown hair swinging over one eye; skin so pale it was glowing white in the stage lights; sweat-slicked collarbones the neon lights pooled in; long, beautiful hands wrapped around the drumsticks; and arms that were thin but that flexed with muscles as he drummed.


	7. the Wooyeol Drama one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking this one was written sometime at the beginning of 2015 when I was suddenly grabbed with feelings about how great it would have been if Wooyeol were secretly pining for each other and being tortured by the script while they were filming their stupid drama.

i.

The thing is, Sungyeol spends about half his life being absolutely positive that there’s some kind of higher power out there and that he, Lee Sungyeol, has been appointed that higher power’s court jester. Because this is reality as Sungyeol knows it: he is the universe’s cosmic joke, and someone somewhere is laughing their ass off at the shitpile that is his life.

That’s the only explanation for this whole drama situation. Sometimes he’s convinced that the whole thing is a joke, a candid camera variety show with him as the target, and any moment, Yoo Jaesuk or someone is going to appear and reveal that the whole country has been laughing at him. That, at least, would make more sense than that some writer is actually sincere, that this is the story he wants to write and that he thinks it’s actually good. 

Or maybe Sungyeol somehow offended writer-nim’s mom or wife or something, and this is elaborate revenge--nothing else makes sense. The writer is a _guy_. He’s not even a squealing fangirl who’s just using the whole show to write her idol ships into reality. He has no excuse for this bullshit.

One afternoon in the van, Sungyeol gets so frustrated with what he’s reading that he tosses his script aside. Howon catches it and thumbs through the highlighter-bright pages for a few minutes while Sungyeol closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe.

“And I thought my first drama was gay,” Howon says after a moment, and Sungyeol comes this close to punching him. 

Niel is confused. Sungyeol gets his text one night in the green room before an Infinite F performance.

_catching up on yr drama hyung. is woohyun going to end up with sungyeol?_

The _names_. The names make it a million times worse.

Sungyeol fantasizes about slamming his head into a wall.

ii.

The script directions are like something out of one of Woohyun’s wet dreams. Or at least the beginning of one of those dreams--the bulk of them wouldn’t be allowed to air on television not even with a warning at the beginning.

He stares at the page and stares at it some more, and it’s only a few minutes later that he realizes he’s gripping the script so hard that the pages are bent. He forces himself to release his grip and sidles up to the director during a free moment.

“You have a question, Woohyun?” Director-nim is actually really nice. Woohyun would probably really like him if his instructions didn’t amount to torture.

“Uh, this scene, sir. The one where Woohyun and Sungyeol wake up?” The _names_. They couldn’t even pick different names. God, this whole situation is so fucked up.

“What about it?” Director-nim has one eye on the lighting guy who’s setting up the next shot. Woohyun takes a deep breath.

“Why are they shirtless, sir?”

That gets Director-nim’s attention. “What?”

Woohyun tries not to flinch under his gaze, reads the words he’s read so many times he’s already memorized them. “‘Morning, Woohyun’s room. Woohyun and Sungyeol are asleep on a pallet on the floor, shirtless, in each other’s arms.’” He almost chokes on the words but he manages to get them out, trying his best to keep his mind blank instead of imagining all too clearly.

Director-nim’s smile isn’t mean at all, but it still makes a knot in Woohyun’s stomach. “What’s the problem?”

“It doesn’t seem very--I mean, it isn’t very realistic, sir. How do they end up shirtless? On the same bed? Like, how did they both end up taking their shirts off? It doesn’t really make much sense.”

“That’s the stage directions, Woohyun,” Director-nim says, and Woohyun sees that his logic isn’t going to prevail. Everyone works very hard on this show, but no one can actually take it seriously.

iii.

 

iv. 

Kibum thinks it’s hilarious. Woohyun thinks Kibum is an asshole. 

“You can’t act worth shit. The only times you’re remotely convincing is when you’re ‘pretending’ to be in love with Sungyeol,” Kibum says. Woohyun slams a pillow into his best friend’s face.


	8. the "I Have No Idea Where I Was Going With This" Myungyeol ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These three were written when Sungyeol was filming "Law of the Jungle." I was very concerned about how Myungsoo was going to react to this, apparently. I don't remember if these snippets were going to be one fic or not. The last one seems to have been inspired by the idea that Sungyeol would get sick or injured while filming? I don't know why I wanted to torture him.

Sungyeol falls asleep on the plane and dreams a dream so commonplace that it seems like a waste of a dream. Usually he dreams about his high school English class being taught by a Tyrannosaurus Rex wearing bifocals or that the stage they’re performing on turns to water and the waves throw them high enough to brush his fingertips against the ceiling. Or about girls. Naked girls. Having fun. With him.

But in this one he’s sitting on the floor of the dorm. It’s the old dorm, the first one, with the paper-thin walls and the faint scent of mold, the one he still expects to be in when he wakes up in the morning to the sound of Sunggyu yelling about something. It’s been years since he was in that dorm, the brief return to film concert footage aside. But in the dream, he’s the same age he is now, except his hair is long which it hasn’t been for months, and he keeps tucking it back behind his ear as he bends over a piece of paper, scribbling notes. Composing. He never did that in the old dorm. 

Myungsoo is sitting behind him. No, that’s not right. Myungsoo is pressed up against his back, draped over him with his chin resting on Sungyeol’s shoulder, warm and Myungsoo-scented. The edge of the stream of his breath catches the skin of Sungyeol’s neck, raising a thin patch of goosebumps, and he can feel Myungsoo’s heartbeat, slow and steady, against his back. Dream-Sungyeol is vaguely irritated with Myungsoo’s clinginess, but not enough to actually shrug him away. He’s focused on the scratch of his pencil, the music notes scattered across the page.

“Yeol?” Myungsoo says, and Sungyeol can tell by the sound of his voice, lazy and low, that he doesn’t really have anything particular to say, that he’s just talking to get Sungyeol’s attention in that way that he does.

“I’m working, Myungsoo. Take a nap or something.” Dream-Sungyeol erases a few notes, brushing the pink eraser bits aside with his hand. 

“Will you forget me when you’re gone?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I _couldn’t_ go anywhere, not with you playing koala like you think I’m a tree.”

“Two weeks is a long time,” Myungsoo says, like he hasn’t heard anything Sungyeol just said. Maybe he hadn’t. You can never tell with Myungsoo.

“Two weeks is nothing. I’ve had zits that lasted longer than that.”

“You’ll meet wild animals and decide you like them more than me and forget all about me. Like tigers.”

“There are no tigers in Belize, dumbass.”

“Maybe you’ll just stay there and live in the trees with the parrots and the monkeys.”

“You really think I’m going to give up wifi and running water and porn to live in a jungle? With monkeys?”

“And I’ll come to find you and you’ll look right at me and won’t even know who I am. You’ll forget all about me.”

“I’m not going to forget about you, you giant idiot. How can I when you’re never more than three inches away from me?”

“I’ll be thousands of miles away for two weeks. You’ll forget me.”

“I’m not going to forget you. Whenever I see a pretty sunset or a wild parrot or something, I’ll think, ‘Myungsoo would like to take a picture of that.’”

Sungyeol doesn’t have to be able to see Myungsoo’s face to know his nose is wrinkling. “You promise?”

“I promise. But I might bring a monkey back with me, train it to get snacks for me.”

Dream Myungsoo laughs as hard as real life Myungsoo always does.

 

 

Myungsoo sulks. They’d known he would, of course—when Sungyeol bounced into the practice room to tell them about his new schedule (“And we’re going to be in the _jungle_ and I’m going to catch a monkey and tame it and bring it back here with me and train it to sneak me snacks when the hyungs aren’t looking.” “You can’t get an _animal_ past customs, dumbass.”), the very first thing anyone said after they finished congratulating him was, “How will Myungsoo survive?” 

Myungsoo hadn’t even seemed to hear Woohyun’s dig; he was too busy looking torn, no doubt between being overjoyed that Sungyeol had something that was just for him and being devastated that they were going to be separated, but the result was that, to Sunggyu’s eyes at least, he just looked constipated. Dongwoo patted his back and said something Sunggyu didn’t hear because Woohyun had leaned close to him and whispered, “Poor Sungjong. Having to deal with all of Myungsoo’s attention for two whole weeks without any breaks?”

Hoya had snorted. “Poor _us_. We’ll be lucky if Sungjong doesn’t snap and kill us all.”

Sungjong had launched himself at Hoya and the two of them had roughhoused for a while, bumping into Myungsoo and jostling him out of his internal conflict and making him laugh. He’d apparently settled on being supportive and happy for Sungyeol, and after that Sunggyu never saw him do anything but smile widely whenever anyone mentioned Sungyeol’s imminent departure. He bragged about it to whoever they met, the stylist noonas and the MCs on shows and Minhwan and Daniel when they came to visit. Every time he did, Sungyeol would shout “Ya!” and kick him or raise his fist threateningly, but Sunggyu was pretty sure that he really just enjoyed all the attention, if the pink of his ears and the preening he tried to hide mean anything.

 

 

 

When Sunggyu comes back to the room, Myungsoo is curled up almost fetal on the bottom half of Sungyeol’s bed, sucking on a lollipop with a lot more concentration than the task really necessitates. 

“Ya! Kim Myungsoo! How many times have the nurses told you to get off his bed! You’re not helping him heal, hanging all over him like that!” 

Myungsoo looks up at him, blinks his slow blink, then closes his eyes and rubs his cheek against Sungyeol’s blanketed knee, still sucking away at his candy like he’s in a race to finish it. It’s the most disobedient Myungsoo ever is with him, and it should probably irritate Sunggyu more than it does. It’s kind of hard to be irritated with Myungsoo, though, especially when his socked feet are paddling with happiness like that. It would be like being irritated with a kitten.

“Aw, leave him alone, hyung, if Sungyeol doesn’t mind,” Woohyun says from where he’s folded himself into one of those uncomfortable wooden chairs, flipping through the channels of the small tv mounted near the ceiling. 

“Woohyun, if you start watching cartoons again, I swear to God I’ll take that remote and shove it straight up your ass,” Sungyeol says, tossing down his phone on the table by his hospital bed and flopping back against the pillows propping him upright. 

“Well, that would be inconvenient. Then the TV would be stuck on that channel and you’re the only one tall enough to reach the TV, but you can’t get up, so you’d have to watch cartoons nonstop, which seems like it would defeat the point.”

“I’d change the station before I let it get friendly with your asshole, jackass,” Sungyeol retorts, glaring and trying to cross his arms before remembering the IV in his hand. He lets out a frustrated huff and flings himself back against the pillows again. “Fuck, I’m so bored!”

“How many times have I told you not to curse in public?” Sunggyu snaps. 

“This is a private hospital room, hyung,” Sungyeol corrects, smartass as usual.


End file.
